File under more lovable "$#*! my students say:
I went with my new grand-daughter Ngu (my Ngu grand-daughter?) to teach the first lesson at the state railway bureau on Wednesday. The engineers all came up and shook my hand and bowed, then we repaired to their conference room for some tea before class. We talked for a while. There was much, "My teacher, how long have you been in Vietnam? My teacher, how do you like Vietnamese people?" and so forth. Then they lapsed in a conversation amongst themselves in Vietnamese.
Gradually, I realized they were talking about me. "Blah, blah, blah, Peter, blah, blah." Finally, Ngu took pity on my monolingualism and translated. "We have decided to call you Lah-oww. (Phonetically rendered as close as I can get it. The tone dips in the middle, then rises.) This means handsome...old handsome man." Then they all grinned and nodded.
It was a great class.
P.
1 comment:
I don't want to know what my Chinese co-workers called me.
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